


you want a garden but you got a balcony

by swordguy



Series: gofundme.com/f/davejadedivorce [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Denial, Implied/Referenced Sex, Multi, The Homestuck Epilogues: Candy, Unrequited Love, imagine cuddling but it gives you depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27213487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swordguy/pseuds/swordguy
Summary: Dave tries to make himself fall in love with Jade.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Jade Harley/Dave Strider
Series: gofundme.com/f/davejadedivorce [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986856
Comments: 18
Kudos: 53





	you want a garden but you got a balcony

Once Dave thinks you're asleep, he drapes his arm over you. It always feels like he's trying something out, working through something — it's never the easy motion of a lover. Even worse, it lacks the familiarity of a friend. He can't figure out how to set the crook of his elbow against you or where to rest his hand, and if you could extend yourself any grace, it would break your heart. 

He's tense. You can feel the shake in his upper arm and how the muscles flex in his abdomen. You wonder if you're ice too cold to touch, or a woman too radioactive to handle. Whatever it is, you shut your eyes tighter and wish he would spit it out.

His fingers thread through your hair and you have no idea what he's thinking. But you have your suspicions. You wish Dave had some suspicions about you too, that he would think that maybe you're not all in either, but as far as you can tell, he doesn't.

He never takes off his ring, not even to sleep. It drives you crazy, even though you're the one who put it there.

Rare are the nights when you fall easily to heavy sleep. You crawl into bed next to Dave and rest your head on his chest, riding the up and down of his breath. He'll kiss the top of your head, but his arms won't curl around you like you want them to. He doesn't roll with you or press himself to your back like you dreamed he would. You don't get to feel a warm exhale on your neck because it's not yours to feel, and you hate it. You hate yourself for hating it. You hate yourself recursively all night for being human.

You don't remember when you last fucked, but you remember how it went down. You remember Dave pushing aside the blankets, lowering you gently into the pillows. Kissing every inch of you and making you feel like a goddess, teasing your sensitive spots, blowing raspberries against your stomach.

He wanted to try something new.

That surprised you. Dave isn't one for new things, so you laid back at his request and watched him anxiously touch himself, reaching between his legs to prepare himself to take you.

You watched him sink his fingers into himself, biting his lip, occasionally gasping. You watched and understood that it was at once vulnerable and not for you. Not even when he pressed you inside of him, or said _fuck, baby, you feel so good_ — you could feel him overlapping dreams with real life. The sweat on your bodies went cold a minute after the two of you were done.

You still haven't talked about it. Neither of you bring it up.

The tension suddenly spills out of Dave with a sigh, like water crashing to the ground from an overturned pitcher. It does not melt away like a fear reassured — it's the slackness of defeat. But his limp arms cradle you more naturally now. He pulls you close, not because you're his wife, but because he's Dave and you're Jade and you both wanted this for so very long that there's some comfort in the simple fact of having it.

You resent how he makes you feel hard to love. He breathes in and the cold tip of his nose bumps the back of your neck. He's trying so hard to love you and it makes you feel fucked up because you think loving someone shouldn't require this much effort. 

The voice in your head that comes with nearly being forty suggests that you might not be hard to love. Your husband just isn't in love with you.

You are not Karkat Vantas.

That obvious biographical fact makes your eyes sting. A tiny, pained gasp escapes you. For a moment, Dave goes unnaturally still. Then he squeezes you comfortingly, assuming you've befallen something awful in your slumber's imagination. 

You stiffen with grief and frustration. Hot tears drip off your face and soak the pillow. Dave pulls away and you're somewhere between indignation and relief, but he's only adjusting the blankets. You soften back up. He buries his face in your shoulder and the moment is warm. For once, it doesn't feel performative, and you're filled with nauseating hope that this is okay. Maybe what you have is enough to work with.

You feel a miserable wetness against your neck.

**Author's Note:**

> what is it about the candy epilogue that has me clawing at the walls of my own psyche every day
> 
> title of this fic is a line from "get used to it" by ricky montgomery... give it a listen if you like staring at your ceiling


End file.
